I El Edhellen
by Lady ITHILIEN1
Summary: Jess doesn't seem to fit in as a human, but when she ends up in Middle Earth, does she have a bigger part to play than she first thought? And who will help her along the way? Yes, it's our favourite elf Legolas!
1. The End?

A/N: Hi there! Welcome to my very first fan-fic. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, and any constructive criticism, as long as it's friendly, will be welcome.

Please keep reading to the end of the chapter – it may be a bit heavy to begin with, but it gets much better towards the end. I really hope you enjoy it – let me know if you have any suggestions.

I El Edhellen

"_To be, or not to be_?"

That was the question.

"_Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune_,"

Some great big arrows they were firing at her head.

"_Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them_."

Would it really be the answer, and take all of her problems away?

"_To die; to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to_."

We are heir to them? Did everyone have to go through this?

"_'Tis a consummation, devoutly to be wish'd. To die; to sleep. To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause_."

That was all she could remember. She had never cared much for Shakespeare, but that bit had always stuck in her mind, as fresh as if she had learnt it yesterday. Year 8, English lessons.

And now to think that she should be pondering the same dilemma as Hamlet! She couldn't remember what happened at the end, so she could not base her decision on his.

She glanced at the clock. It was two o'clock in the morning. An hour now she had lain here, weeping, about her life, and that of a character in a book. If the heroine in a novel could not be with the man she loved, how could she ever hope to? She had no-one controlling her life, able to ensure her happiness. She was alone. It was up to her. 

And what a great job you've made of it so far, girl.

Oh, how alone she felt! There was no-one who knew her properly; who really understood her. Sure, she had friends, and a caring family, but she felt she had to keep them locked out. Amongst her friends, and even her dear sister Katie, whom she loved more than anyone else in the world, they all said she was difficult to talk to. Her parents felt the same, and she had few conversations, proper conversations, with them.

She had always felt like an outsider, like she didn't fit in. From an early age, for reasons she could never understand, she had been bullied by her classmates; acts of sheer malice that were etched in her mind, and which had crushed her self-esteem to this very day. She had been outcast, ridiculed and humiliated, and still, the feelings of inadequacy haunted her. Even now, when she had friends and felt happy at school, she kept herself to herself, unnoticed at times, and only speaking to her friends whom she felt comfortable around, so that others must have thought her cold and unfriendly.

Yet that was not the case. She loved to be around people; loved to listen to them and discover how their minds worked; what they felt.

What she hated and feared most was to be alone.

And now she had exams looming over her, occupying every moment of her thought, and every second of her being. She was expected to do well. Very well. In fact, she was considering a career in medicine. Except, at the moment, she did not care how many electrons were in a calcium atom, or what the momentum of a dropped stone was. She did not care about any of it, although she usually had a love of numbers and logic. She could not face learning one single fact more. Except music. Music was her one passion in life; in fact her one reason for living. When she played the piano, all her problems evaporated away, and she became part of the music; existed solely in the music. Her fingers drifted across the keyboard, darted from note to note nimbly and sprightly as the music flowed from her. The piano became part of her; an extension of her body, like an extra limb, over which she had just as much control as the rest of her.

Yet even with her music, she was not entirely happy. She could not compose, not yet anyway, and express her own, individual feelings through the music. She felt that there must be something more to be discovered; music that could go deeper into the soul, and move you far more powerfully. She wanted to go there; to discover that music, but she didn't know how. It was there, but she could not reach it. Oh, it was all so hopeless! What more did this world have to offer her? Love! Ha! Fat chance!

Like anyone would want to go out with her! The outsider, the geek, the ugly one! She had never had a boyfriend; never even been kissed. But that was all she wanted; to be accepted, understood, and to be loved.

Nothing lasted these days, anyway. People got bored, cheated, split up. What chance did she have?

She rolled over on to her front, and silently sobbed even harder into her already damp pillow, pulling wretchedly at the corners with her clenched fists. 

No-one could ever love her. She was far too ugly and fat.

She looked at the clock again through her tears. Half past two.

Never in her life had she felt this utterly miserable. Now was her chance. It was now or never. She had thought about it before now, certainly; more than a few times, but she had always chickened out at the last moment. Pain? It couldn't be much worse than the horror she was going through now. She was nearly numb anyway.

She would take the chance.

Slowly, silently, she slipped out of bed, stifling the sobs that wracked her body, and without looking back, left the room and padded down the stairs. The kitchen was cold, but not as cold as the blade of the knife as it lay in her sweating palms. 

This was it. This was the end.

It'd better be worth it.

Eyes closed, and smiling grimly to herself, she gripped the handle tightly and plunged the blade into her heart.

The pain was unimaginable. Her whole body shrieked with agony, and it seemed to her as if she was being brutally attacked everywhere with cruel, icy daggers. An electric shock careered up her spine, as a scream echoed around in her head. 

Her mouth was open. It was her scream!

Panicking blindly, she fell stumbling to the floor, and looked at the wound.

Blood was everywhere. It seeped into the thin cotton of her pyjamas, spreading quickly. It flowed into her cupped hands around the knife.

She screamed again desperately and lashed out with her arms, leaving sticky red handprints on the walls around her.

"Help!" she gasped faintly, the metallic taste of blood in her foaming mouth. She closed her eyes, and darkness enveloped her.

***

White

Bright light everywhere.

Where was she? Was this heaven?

Not that she had ever believed in any of that stuff. She hadn't known what she expected, but she had never imagined this. She seemed to be floating. Just floating in light.

Then she realised that she did not seem to exist anymore. Not her body anyway. She had no shape or form. She just _was_. She wasn't even sure if she could actually see, as there seemed to be nothing _to_ see. Just light. She seemed to be sensing it; feeling its presence rather than seeing it. She was seeing, or feeling, everything around her, with no boundaries of sight.

She couldn't tell how long she spent in that place, just being, with a gentle feeling of calm and peacefulness. It could have been a few mere seconds, or a life age of the Earth, but it did matter. Time could not be measured there, as it had no meaning.

Then she became able to sense another presence with her, and another, until she felt surrounded by beings. She couldn't explain it; she couldn't see or hear them; she was just aware of them, a constant bubbling of pulsing energies.

A voice spoke; well, it wasn't really a voice, more like thought-patterns she could visualise and make sense of in her head.

"Jessica Felicity Robertson" it said, sounding very authoritative; firm, and yet kind. 

There was a flash of multicoloured lights, and her mind seemed to boil, as if the beings entered into her soul, rifling through her thoughts, trying to piece together her life. It felt as if she was being emptied, the life sucked out of her as the spirits dissected her. Then, as swiftly as it had begun, they had finished. Another voice spoke in her head, a booming voice, swelling with self-importance:

"You have summoned me here to this council merely to discuss the future of an insignificant mortal so spineless that she had to resort to suicide to solve her problems! If they were all like that, where then would we stand?"

His words were cold, derogatory, and brought images of blue-green into her head, swirling and bubbling in her mind.

A third voice spoke, gentle and soothing, like a grey blanket, saying:

"You are swift to judge, Lord of the Waters, and quick to speak. If you had looked a little deeper, you would have seen that, although there are faults, as with any mortal, this girl has many strengths; resilience, love, and a purity of the soul.

"And yet not enough perseverance to endure the simple life that was given to her?" argued the blue-green voice scornfully.

"Maybe it was not hers to own," said a new, earthy voice, "Perhaps it was a mistake that she was there, in which case she would never have fitted in."

"Are you suggesting that we should give her another chance? Another life for her to ruin?" retorted the blue-green voice.

"She could be great," said yet another voice, this one clear and bright, "She could be the One; the One we have been waiting for."

"It is far too dangerous, and we cannot know for certain. Surely we cannot rest the fate of Arda on the shoulders of this child of Man," said a strong, metallic voice.

"We have no choice put to put our faith into her hands, and to help to guide her, wherever she is bound to go," said the first voice, resounding with authority and hope.

There were signals of assent form the rest of the beings, and only a few had misgivings.

"Then it is decided."

***

Sunlight streamed down in beams between the tall trees that seemed to go on forever above her head. She gazed up at them in awe as the world stopped spinning, and then in astonishment.

Trees.

She had expected never to see them, or anything else for that matter, again.

As her vision grew clearer, she became aware of the fresh, alive smell of the forest, and of the uneven texture of the cool grass beneath her body.

She was alive. Where, she did not know, but she had her body back.

She moved her fingers, and they responded to her command, tugging gently at the smooth green stems, brimming with life.

She was lying, naked, flat out on the ground with her limbs stretched out around her. She tried to sit up, too fast, and her head reeled as her vision clouded over again, and a sharp pain shot up her spine. When it had passed, she slowly levered herself upright, her body crying out in pain with every muscle aching intolerably. Trying not to pass out, she clumsily crawled over to a tree on her right and settled herself into a hollow between the roots. She pulled her bare knees up to her chin in order to try to hide herself, lest any passer-by should happen to see her.

A deep-grey boot, embellished with a delicate silver swirling pattern, was silently planted down on the ground beside her. She stared at it in horror, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

"Man eneth lín? Hiril nîn?" said a voice; a gentle, soft, yet manly voice.

Slowly and fearfully, she looked upwards until her eyes met with those of the stranger, clear and blue. But then she gasped, for this was surely no man, his hair was long, and very fair. He was looking at her quizzically, clearly expecting an answer to whatever he had asked her, but she could give him none.

"Man eneth lín?" he repeated.

"Huh?" she mumbled.

Sensing her fear and confusion, he knelt down beside her, and as he did so, he whipped off his long grey cloak and gently wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening it at the neck. She pulled it gratefully about her.

"What is your name?" he asked, mystified.

She looked up at him quickly again.

"Jess."

He smiled briefly, his face lighting up, relieved that they could understand each other. Then his joy clouded over, and he frowned.

"But that is no Elven name. It is not a name I have ever heard before. And you do not speak the Elven tongue," pondered, more to himself than to her. 

His head tilted as he studied her face. The light bouncing off his pale, smooth skin.

"Where are you from?" he asked, his handsome face full of kindness.

She sighed despairingly, not even sure of the answer herself.

"I don't know."

"Then you shall come with me," he said, "Do not fear. You will be safe."

He stood up, looked around himself at the glade they were in, and whistled; a long, high-pitched, piercing sound. Within a few seconds, a beautiful white horse came forth out of the shadow of the trees. It stopped when it reached the stranger, and whinnied at its master, as he stroked the velvet muzzle of the beast.

Jess stared at the horse in amazement. He was a strong, lithe creature, with a thick, glistening coat of snow, the like of which she had never seen before. 

The stranger returned to her, and carefully lifted her up in his powerful arms as if she weighed no more than a leaf, settling her onto the back of the horse.

"His name is Celegdail, Lightfoot. Do not be afraid," he said, and sprang up nimbly behind her on his steed. 

She did not have the strength to resist. Even if she had wanted to. She quickly lost her fear in the safety of his protecting arms, and was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the horse as they made their way through the forest.

***

A/N: Are you still with me? I hope so. Please, don't forget to leave a review. Be nice ;-) Chapter 2 should be up soon.

The Shakespeare at the beginning was from Hamlet.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JRR Tolkien, except Jess, and some more Original Characters coming later.


	2. Questions That Need Answers

I El Edhellen

Chapter 4

She awoke once more with gentle light glowing down upon her, and she was in a bed, with fresh, clean sheets. She was more alert now and aware of her surroundings than she had been before, and she felt refreshed, as if emerging from a deep sleep.

She was dressed in a simple white nightgown, and her long blonde hair lay loose upon the plump pillow. She looked tentatively down at her chest and gasped. There was no scar; not a single mark to show where the knife had gone in.

What had happened? Was she still Jess? Or had she been reborn with a new life, but still with the memories of her old self?

Panicking slightly, she ran her hands over her face, checking to see if it had been altered. It felt the same as she remembered. Eyes, nose were the same, mouth, ears…were pointed!

She screamed and dropped her hands, lying on the bed, trembling.

What had happened to her? What was she?

After a short while, she gathered the courage to feel her ears again. There was no mistaking it. They were pointed.

Repulsed, she looked up to see that a young woman with long, fair hair had entered the room, carrying a tray.

"You are awake," she said, "How do you feel, my Lady?"

Ignoring the question, Jess sat up in the bed and, fingering her ears, asked, "What…what are they? What am I?"

The woman put down the tray on a table and came closer to the bed, looking fairly taken aback.

"You don't remember…"

Jess looked closely at the woman, and saw that the tips of her ear, too, were pointed like her own. She lay back against the soft pillows, astounded and bewildered.

What on Earth happened? Is this a dream?

"Who are you? Where…where am I?" she asked the woman.

"I am Adusìriel," the woman replied, "and I am here to look after you, and aid you in your recovery. You are in the Forest of Mirkwood, in the Halls of Thranduil the Elvenking."

"Elvenking…?" 

She stared at Adusìriel in shock, dumbfounded.

"Elvens…have pointy ears…?"

The woman looked concerned, studying her intently.

"You have forgotten everything…"

She surfaced up out of her thoughts, and got the tray, placing it on Jess's lap.

"You must be hungry," she said. "Replenish yourself. You will find suitable garments to wear in the closet, and I will come to escort you in a while. King Thranduil wishes to speak with you."

Adusìriel smiled, and left Jess alone. She looked down at the tray, which was laden with fruits, bread and cheese, and a glass of water, and she began to eat ravenously. Now that she thought about it, she was famished; the kind of hunger that leaves an ache in one's belly. She wondered how long had been since her last meal.

The food was basic, but fresh and delicious, satisfying her completely. Feeling invigorated, she climbed out of bed, relieved to find that her body no longer ached. In the corner of the room, she found a bowl of water, and splashed her face gratefully, the cool liquid making her skin tingle. 

Inside the finely-crafted wooden closet, she found what she guessed to be the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was dusky blue in colour, made of a fine silk, and had a delicate, silver edging around the arms and neck. She marvelled at it, and put it on excitedly, muddling with the laces down the sides. The neck was scooped low, and the sleeves were so long and wide that they reached down to her knees. Behind her, the lengthy skirt trailed elegantly on the ground, the hem translucent, like water. She felt magnificent, like a princess, and wished she had a mirror.

But I'm sure to stand on it and rip it. And what if I spill something down it?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking on the door, which opened, and Adusìriel entered.

"You look lovely," she said warmly to Jess, who looked down at her feet, self-concious.

"Shoes," she said, "Do I need shoes?"

Adusìriel handed her a pair of slender, satin slippers, the sma ecolour as the gown, which she put on.

"Are you ready now, my Lady?" asked Adusìriel.

"Yes, I think so."

Adusìriel lad her along a labyrinth of wide, elegant passages, lit by strange crystals, which glowed with a warm light. Jess guessed that they were underground, though not far, as the air was still fresh and wholesome. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, and she was beginning to tremble with nerves.

"Why does the King want to see me? What is he going to do with me?"

"You will find out soon enough," was the only answer that her Elf-guide would give.

They soon came to a pair of grand oak doors, with beautiful carved designs on them, guarded by two silent Elves, who nodded and let the pair pass through.

They entered at one end of a long, spacious hall, and in front of them sat about ten of what she assumed to be Elves.

Adusìriel said, "Here is the girl, Your Highness," inclined her head out of respect, and then left the hall.

Jess stood awkwardly in front of the Elvens, frozen with fear. Not knowing where to look, her eyes darted nervously about her surroundings, with its high stone walls, and the grand fireplace opposite her, flames licking the air.

"What is your name, child?" said the Elf in the centre, jerking her out of her thoughts. He was hair of face, as were all those about him, but there was something in his eyes that made him seem older, wiser perhaps, and she guessed that he was the king from the crown of leaves about his head.

"Jess, sir…your highness," she said, voice shaking, Jessica Robertson."

The Elf-King smiled slightly to himself.

"And where are you from, Jessica?"

What could she say? Would he have heard of Devon, England? 

I don't think so. Because I've never heard of Mirkwood. Or Elves.

"I don't know," she replied feebly, her gaze breaking from his blue eyes, and falling to the floor. 

"And what were you doing, wandering in the forest, alone?"

"I don't know," she whispered, shaking her head miserably.

"The forest is dangerous, especially for a young lady like yourself. And yet Adusìriel tells me you remember nothing about it.

A tear slid down her cheek, and fell to the floor intact, a pearl of sadness, before shattering, like glass, into nothing.

"Father…" said another Elf, warningly.

The Elf King continued nonetheless: 

"Your name is not one I have ever heard before. It is certainly not Elvish in origin. Where is it from?"

There as no answer she could give that would make sense to him. She longed to turn and run from the hall, but she dared not.

"Can you explain yourself?"

"No."

She couldn't stand any more of this torture and fled through the doors, weeping with misery. She ran through the corridors, blindly turning this way and that, lost and confused. She had to get out. She felt trapped and suffocated in the place; needed fresh air.

But she could not find her way out, and eventually she grew tired and collapsed on the floor in a corner, shaking with grief. 

A hand was offered. She took it in hers and pulled herself to her feet, her tears subsiding. The hand belonged to another Elf, and she stared at him through eyes blurry with grief, his face familiar.

"You rescue me!" she said, recognising him as the stranger in the forest. "Thank you."

He smiled and nodded slightly.

"You are most welcome, my Lady."

He looked around himself uncomfortably, his keen blue eyes flashing in the glow from the lamps.

"These halls can become somewhat suffocating to those who prefer the fresh air," he said, "Shall we take a walk outside?"

Jess nodded in agreement, and the Elf quickly led her out of the halls, and after passing through a grand entrance hall, they were outside. A tall wooden fence was before them, guarded by two Elves, who let them pass through a gate into the forest.

"I am sorry about my father," he said apologetically. "He is wise, and means well, but I am afraid he is very suspicious of strangers."

Jess gaped at him, open-mouthed.

"That was your father? The King!"

The Elf smiled, slightly abashed.

"Yes, he is my father. I have not introduced myself. I am Legolas, and I am at your service, my Lady."

And so saying, he knelt down on one knee, his right fist on his chest, and he lowered his head as a sign of respect. Jess flushed red with delight and embarrassment, fiddling with her hair nervously.

"So, you are a prince, then?" she asked him.

"I am, though I dare say there are those who desire to hold that title more than I do."

She looked at him quizzically, wanting to know more, but being too shy to ask.

"I care nothing for wealth and kingdoms. I desire only the forests that I love, and music, and the stars."

The Elf stared wistfully into the depths of the forest around them, still and silent as stone, and yet alert and aware of everything. It was then that Lizzie realised how handsome he looked, now that she was calmer. His skin was smooth and as pale as ivory, and his long flaxen hair was silken. He was clad in a long robe of fawn-grey, in which he looked strong, yet graceful.

He returned from his trance-like state, and turned, holding her with his sapphire gaze.

"And what was a maiden such as yourself doing out in the forest, alone?"

She looked to the ground, floundering for an explanation.

"I just…I don't know."

His eyes did not release her, and he was clearly not satisfied with this answer, yet his face was warm and kind, and not cold and deriding like his father's had been.

"You are a mystery to me," he said, "You are an Elf, and yet you seem to know nothing of my father, or of any Elves. Which part of Middle-Earth are you from?"

She sighed despairingly. 

"I'm not an Elf," she confessed.

He looked shocked and confused, but said nothing.

"Yeah, I know, I've got the ears. But they weren't there a week ago. I don't know how they became pointy like this."

"But you must be an Elf," he said.

"No. I'm a human, but I don't suppose you've ever heard of them."

To her surprise, the Elf laughed tunefully.

"A human" That cannot be so! No human has ever had pointy ears. They are slow and unwise for the most part, and do not care for the world as we do."

"I am a human," she insisted.

"Then where are you from? Rohan? Gondor?"

"I've never heard of those places. I'm not from "Middle-Earth", wherever that might be."

The Elf became grave once more, and looked at her curiously.

"Then where, my Lady?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am, and I don't know how I got here. I want to go home, but I don't know how. This is all wrong!"

Legolas touched her arm sympathetically, but she shrugged him off angrily, tears stinging her eyes.

"I don't know who you are, and I'm sick of everyone asking me questions, so just leave me alone!"

With tears falling down her cheeks, she ran off blindly into the forest, not caring where she went. Legolas called out to her from behind, but she ignored him, stumbling deeper into the dark wood. Soon she grew weary, and threw herself down on the ground, lost and afraid, weeping miserably.

I want to go home. I just want to go home.

She buried her face in her hands, and not caring what strange creatures might find her there, cried herself to sleep as night enveloped the forest.

A/N: Oh, poor Jess! Will she ever find out what has happened to her? And will she ever get home? Keep reading! Thanks.


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